


Two Families

by Neverever



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Arranged Marriage, Italian Mafia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-05-13 02:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5691046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverever/pseuds/Neverever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria Stark and Sarah Rogers seal their new-found alliance through an arranged marriage for their sons, Tony and Steve. Steve, the heir to Sarah's mob empire, is doubtful but wants to make his mother happy. But Tony is in denial about the deep deep trouble his family is in and wants no part of this. How will Steve and Tony deal with their unwanted marriage, survive a mob war, and defeat their enemies? And what if they might, possibly find each other attractive and interesting?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So my beta who asks me for nothing wanted to read something different from me. I dedicate this fic to her.
> 
> This fic was inspired by [downeyjraddict's prompt](http://downeyjraddict.tumblr.com/post/127852268962/au-idea) about an arranged marriage between the Stark and Rogers mob families.
> 
> For those who worry about character death: use rot13.com for spoiler -- Znwbe Punenpgre qrngu: Fnenu Ebtref riraghnyyl cnffrf njnl sebz pnapre.

Maria played with her pearls and tapped her cocktail glass with her manicured fingers as she waited. She checked the slim, diamond-encrusted watch on her left wrist. Her lunch date was a few minutes late, but it could have been hours for all she felt. She had picked the restaurant with care -- a little hole-in-the-wall in neutral Queens, far from her usual haunts in Manhattan -- so she wouldn’t be found out. She had sent the invitation through channels with the hope that Mrs. Rogers would be willing to meet with her, even though she was the enemy.

Things had not gone well recently for the Starks. Howard had suffered his second heart attack at his mistress’ apartment and was recovering down in Florida under his bodyguards’ watchful eyes. His doctors and lieutenants were convinced Howard would be back, but Maria, a far more practical woman and a realist, had her doubts. Already his territory was under attack from ambitious enemies. The family’s revenues, and their prospects, were slipping rapidly. 

Thus this meeting. Maria had to think of her son Tony’s future. Her husband had made powerful enemies and they weren’t likely to spare Tony from their wrath.

“Mrs. Stark?”

“Yes. Mrs. Rogers, pleased to meet you,” Maria said, holding out her hand to the gruff, middle-aged Irishwoman standing next to her.

The woman, dressed in a sturdy but plain tweed suit and a trilby hat, ignored the proffered hand and sat down. “Mrs. Stark, I don’t think you invited me here to talk about joining the Manhattan Garden Club.” She carefully set her hat on the chair next to her, revealing short-clipped, gray-blonde hair. 

“Would you like lunch at least before we talk business?” Maria offered. She might be reduced by circumstances to reaching out to a long-time rival, but she would not ignore her responsibilities as hostess.

Mrs. Rogers sighed. “Very well. Hand me a menu,” she said, a trace of a Gaelic lilt in her voice. 

The Irishwoman was nothing short of a legend in the mafia world. Widowed at a young age when her husband, Joseph, was gunned down during a shootout, Sarah Rogers took over Joseph’s burgeoning crime empire, immediately growing his extortion, number-running and prostitution rings, all while carrying her sickly, asthmatic son on her hip. No one willingly crossed her, or lived if they underestimated her. She ruled her territory with an iron fist, her son Steven as her right hand.

Maria placed their orders, including another cocktail for herself. It looked to be a long afternoon.

“Those aren’t good for you,” Mrs. Rogers said bluntly. Maria readjusted her expectations -- it was going to be a very, very long afternoon.

Fixing a bright smile on her face, Maria ventured. “May I call you Sarah?”

Sarah shrugged. “If I can call you Maria.”

“So, Sarah, how is your Steven? He’s been back from the war a couple of years now.” From what Maria had heard, Steve Rogers was a decorated veteran who had served with distinction overseas in the recent world war.

“Aye. He’s thriving now he’s back from Europe. Wish he’d brought home a nice girl or boy though. I’ve no idea what goes through the heads of these youngsters these days, thinking they don’t need marriage. Is it too much to expect a boy of his age to be settled?” Sarah stabbed at a roll. “Now, about your husband?”

“Howard is fine.”

“I’d have killed him by now, were he mine. Yeah, I heard what happened -- him being found at his piece’s house.”

“Howard has to have his hobbies.”

Sarah snorted. “I’m sure he does. But he did leave you high and dry when he fled to Florida.”

Maria took a deep breath. “He’s recovering in Florida and will be home in a few months. That’s why I contacted you.”

“You need help holding on to his business.”

“Yes. I believe you’d be willing to help me. After all, the cancer --”

“How’d you know?” Sarah snapped. She whipped her head around to see if anyone saw her.

“No one is here. I’m friends with the owner and he’ll look out for us. As for your news, I have my sources, just as you do.”

Sarah recovered. “So. What you are suggesting?”

“We could help each other -- with a little old-fashioned business deal.” Maria handed Sarah a picture. “That’s my Tony. He’s graduating from MIT next month. He’s very bright and good at business.”

Sarah studied the picture. “Nice-looking boy.”

“Our families aren’t competing now for business or territory. If we were allied, our families could be stronger. A lot stronger.”

“Your lot don’t like to get your hands dirty, that’s for sure.”

“We do what we have to do. No different from you.”

“Right. But if we were to join forces, so to speak, what would seal our alliance?”

“You’re looking for Steve to be settled before you go,” Maria said delicately. “And I want Tony to have a chance to establish himself.”

Sarah frowned and took a few sips of her water. “Maria, are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting ?”

“Indeed, Sarah. I think that a summer wedding would be lovely. Perhaps August?”

Sarah tilted her head, thinking hard about Maria’s offer. “I can see to it my Steve shows up. Can you get your Tony?”

“Yes. He’ll have to oblige me in this.”

“You’ll pay for the wedding?”

“I’d be more than glad to. It’ll be the highlight of the social calendar. All the families will be invited.” Maria smiled. “There’ll be an engagement party, and a big announcement in the papers. Hmm, where to hold the reception ….” 

“Now, don’t get carried away yet, Maria. It’s not likely our enemies will take this lying down.”

“No, they won’t, but at least I’ll have something to look forward to,” she said. Howard would not be pleased, but Maria could care less about what he thought. Especially after Stane’s badly executed attempt on her life last week. Picking out the reception food would be considerably less stressful.

~~~~~

There was no way on God’s green earth Steve would let himself be late to his mother’s for Sunday dinner. He was already going to catch it for skipping Mass that morning. But missing dinner would earn him a death sentence.

He parked his motorcycle in the driveway among the cars of the Family members who were already gathered at the house. Walking up the path, he heard his mother’s sharp voice from the kitchen, “Don’t tell me that my only son rode that death trap of a motorcycle here. He’s going to give me a heart attack any day now.”

One of his lieutenants, Natasha, gave Steve a sympathetic look as he entered through the back door. “Warning -- she’s been on a tear all day,” she whispered. 

“About what?” he asked.

“I can’t tell. She only grunted at me when I turned in my take for the week. And it was my best week ever,” she replied. 

“Right. I’ll be back down shortly if she’s looking for me.”

Steve snuck upstairs so his mother wouldn’t see him in his leather motorcycle jacket with blood splatter on his hands and face. He ducked into his bedroom to grab a set of new clothes. He had stayed over at Bucky’s and Sam’s apartment the night before since he had an early business meeting that morning with a local bookie to discuss profit sharing. A quick shave, a wash and a clothes change later, he again looked like the respectable son of Sarah Rogers, small business owner. 

His mother, in her usual tweed coat and skirt set, was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. She checked him over. “Your hair is getting too long,” she sniffed.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Come to my office -- I have to talk to you before everyone is here.”

Following her to her office to the right of the stairs, Steve explained, “Bucky and Sam will be late.” 

Sarah kept her light-filled office clean and organized, complete with a new flower arrangement on a table near the door, a gun at the ready in a desk drawer, and safes hidden in the wall and the floorboards. A quick look revealed nothing extraordinary, as it looked like the office of a woman who owned and managed a couple of laundry services and flower shops. Her real records were tucked away in her bedroom closet upstairs. Steve sat in his customary chair and waited for his mother to talk.

“If they are late, I gather that you were successful in our business negotiations.”

“Very.”

She nodded. “I have another business proposition for you.”

“Hmm. Maybe Bucky and Nat -- I have a busy week.”

“No -- this is different. It’s about the Stark Family.” Sarah steepled her fingers and sighed. 

Steve snorted. “What do they want? Or are you considering a takeover?” He found that idea intriguing. Difficult, but intriguing. Howard Stark had been incapacitated for months and the word on the street was that neither Maria his wife nor his fancy college-boy son Tony were up to the task of running the family business. 

“No. A merger. Of sorts.”

“A merger?” Steve had never heard of such a thing among mob families.

“As of this week, you are engaged to Tony Stark. The wedding will be take place on August 10 at some country club or hotel -- Maria Stark has no idea exactly where, but she wanted to get the church first.” 

Steve nearly jumped to his feet. Instead he tamped down his reaction by gripping the chair arms tight enough to almost crack them. “Mom -- arranged marriages went out with the dark ages. If the Starks are that weak, we could launch a takeover.”

“No,” Sarah replied firmly. “I gave my word to Maria Stark that I would deliver you to the church on August 10 to marry Tony Stark. And I never go back on my word.”

Steve slumped in his chair. He hadn’t really given any thought to marriage at all. He had a fling with a Resistance fighter in France, but couldn’t find her again once the war was over. There hadn’t been anybody in the years since. “I can’t, Ma. It’s not a good idea.”

“It’s a perfectly good idea that benefits both the Rogers and Stark families. Once you think about it, you’ll see all that clearly,” Sarah snapped. She rubbed her temples. “I brought you into this world, put a roof over your head, scrimped and saved so that you would have food, clothes and art supplies, and sacrificed everything for your safety. Steve, all I ask out of life is that you are married and settled before I leave this earth. You haven’t managed that on your own. So I fixed that for you.”

“But Tony Stark?”

“Eh. His family has power and he’s nice-looking and Catholic. It’s not so bad, is it, Steve? Make an old woman happy.”

Steve couldn’t fight her on this right now. He’d give her a few days and then he’d be able to joke with her and convince her to change her mind. Maybe a few dates with Sharon down the street and she’d back off of the marriage idea.

He forgot sometimes that Sarah was just like him. When he was growing up, he had thought she could read his mind. Sarah frowned at him so long that he squirmed in his chair.

“Steve, I vowed that I would not tell you this, but you need to know. Son, I have cancer. And the diagnosis is not good. This is my request to you -- your dying mother who only loves and wants the best for you is asking that you honor her and marry Tony Stark. It will make me exceedingly happy to dance at your wedding before I die.”

Tears sprang to Steve’s eyes and he leaned in towards his mother. “Ma -- are you sure?”

“I’ve known over six months now. I’m a fighter, but I’m not going to win this fight.”

Steve never wanted to let down or disappoint his mother. He had always held himself honor-bound to the promises his mother made. As miserable as he might be about this, he had to do this or be like the faithless layabout his father had been. Besides, he could always marry this Tony to make her happy, then once his mother was satisfied, he could pay him to go far, far away. 

“Ma, you can still beat this,” he said. He stood up and walked over to hug his mother. “You’ve got years ahead of you.”

“It’s pretty to think so, Steven.” She leaned into the hug.

“I don’t want to lose you.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll do what you want.”

“You’ve always been a good boy.I knew I could count on you.” She patted his arm.

Kathleen, the maid, opened the door to announce that dinner would be served shortly. Sarah took out her handkerchief and wiped the remains of drying tears from her face. “They’re expecting us. Now, not a single word about my health.”

“Because you’ll get better.”

“Of course.”

~~~~~

Daylight came too soon for Tony, who had barely opened his eyes to the sun’s ray streaming from his window before he realized someone else was in his apartment. Not the two women, students from Wellesley, still asleep in his bed, but a real, live person on the other side of the door. Suddenly alert, he listened to the sharp sound of shoes tapping on the creaking wooden floors.

He struggled to prop himself up in his bed, feeling the pain of an enormous hangover with every move. He nudged the blonde on his left out of the way so he could put his hands on the gun in his bedside table. Not a good situation at all for the son of a failing Mafia don. 

He was not going to be killed in this apartment. He could imagine the lurid stories in the newspapers about his death with detailed descriptions and pictures of the less-than fashionable furniture and decor of his student apartment. He’d die from the embarrassment.

Whoever was in the apartment wrenched the door open. Tony snatched up the covers in a last ditch effort to hide himself from his attacker.

“Anthony Edward Stark, really,” his mother snapped. “Come out of there. You can’t hide from me.”

The microbiology major to his right whined, “Tony, it’s too early. What’s going on?”

“It is precisely eleven in the morning,” Maria Stark said primly. “Time to rise and shine. Anthony, I expect to see you in the living room once you are decent.” She turned heel and headed out.

Ignoring his houseguests from the night before, Tony fished trousers, a shirt and a cashmere sweater out of his closet. His mother would have to put up with his untrimmed beard and uncombed hair and bad breath if she insisted on showing up uninvited and unwanted to his apartment.

Maria, apparently determining that she did not want to risk what contaminants she could get from the couch if she sat there, waited for Tony at the window. “Boston can be passably interesting in the spring,” she said by way of greeting.

“Sure. What are you doing here?” Tony asked. He didn’t have the patience for the usual pleasantries.

“I am taking you to lunch to discuss your future. However, it seems that you have other plans, Anthony.” She turned and examined Tony with a critical eye.

“I thought we talked about all that at Christmas -- I’m planning to stay on at MIT -- I’ve been accepted to graduate school in mechanical engineering and --” Tony silently groaned. His mother was here to convince him to go to Florida to spend the summer with his father. That had to be the reason she was there. “No, I’m not going back to New York for the summer. And no way in hell am I going to Fort Lauderdale.”

“Tch, tch. Language, Tony,” Maria replied. “It would be nice, though, if you visited your father.” She checked her wristwatch. “We have reservations at 12. I’ll be downstairs in the car -- I expect that you’ll want to see to your, um, guests and clean up some more.”

All his experience taught him to recognize that Maria had not traveled up from New York to discuss the weather, but something far more serious. He was going to have to pour on the charm to avoid whatever terrible thing she had in mind for him. He was not going to spend his summer reading and playing cards with his father if he could help it. Or worse, maybe she was going to expect him to move to Florida to keep an eye on the old man. That was the worst thing he could think of.

He was wrong. Oh, so very very wrong.

“I am not marrying Steve Rogers,” Tony declared firmly. Maria had picked an old-fashioned, supremely quiet restaurant with courtly waiters and all the white linen in the world in a bid to keep Tony from making a scene. He could make a scene even in whispers if he had to.

Maria swirled her cocktail. “The decision is made. The wedding’s in August. Mrs. Rogers has left the arrangements to me. You may have some say about the guest list.”

“Mom, no. No. I’m not going to be sold off to pay for Dad’s debts or whatever. And why the Rogers Family anyway? We’ve never worked with them.”

“Mrs. Rogers and her son Steve are on the rise -- they have resources we don’t.” Maria sighed. She pushed back her hair with her left hand and the light glinted on the wedding ring on her finger. “I know your father considered them enemies. But we have worse enemies in common.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of the, um, family business, Mom? Loyalty to our family and friends? We could call in some favors, make some trades --”

“The other families, even old allies, smell blood in the water. We’ve exhausted all our resources and we’re on our own.” Maria reached across the table to touch his hand. She smiled gently at him. “Tony, the only loyalty I have is to see that you die in your sleep at a very old age. And I’m going to do everything in my power to see that that happens.”

“Marrying Steve Rogers will --”

“Buy you a few years of safety. A useful ally, until you can straighten out Howard’s messes and make us strong again. Besides, Steve sounds like a lovely person according to his mother.”

“That’s not exactly a glowing recommendation. Can I at least meet Steve before we get married?”

“I will arrange something.”

~~~~~

Contrary to his father’s assumptions about him, Tony had been building up his side of the family business even while at college. He wasn’t completely blind to his family’s imminent collapse. He had been working as best he could from Boston to salvage what he could. He had a thriving counterfeit parts business managed by a small group of people whom he completely and utterly trusted. He had planned to put more effort into his gray-market business during the summer.

Now that all his future plans were in chaos, Tony called up Pepper to research the Rogers Family and, in particular, Steve Rogers.

“Got it,” she said. “Any reason?”

Tony gritted his teeth. He wanted to know all the dirt on his future husband, assuming he didn’t find a way to wiggle out of the marriage before August. “Possible rivals.”

“I’ll tell you with what I find out when I send you the weekly numbers.” Pepper managed Tony’s burgeoning business with an iron hand. She had a keen talent for negotiation and manipulation. She could sniff out new revenue streams like a bloodhound.

“Thanks, Pep.”

“When are you back in New York? Rhodey has some ideas for expanding the business.”

“Graduation’s in June. But I might be back in town sooner.”

“Good. Let me know what else I can do.”

Tony hung up the phone. He pondered briefly what Pepper and Rhodey would think about his upcoming marriage. If Rhodey didn’t have ideas about how to get him out of it, Pepper would. 

~~~~~

Steve borrowed a car from Sam to drive to an obscure diner, in Hoboken, of all places. The only warnings he had about the meeting were that it was a secret meeting and to take care he wasn’t seen. Steve came prepared for a secret meeting for which he couldn’t be seen the best way he could -- armed to the teeth.

The place turned out to be a standard, rundown greasy-spoon diner. The surly waitress didn’t even blink an eye at him and pointed to a booth in the empty dining room. He waited. And waited some more. After a while he assumed that he wasn’t going to be killed. Nearly all assassination attempts happened promptly so that the target wouldn’t get pissed off and leave the setup spot.

Before he could gather up his hat and pay for his coffee, a man ran into the diner. Steve cocked an eyebrow. The man was dressed sharply in a gray pinstriped suit, loud red and gold tie and a fedora. In his haste, a few locks of dark wavy hair had sprung free from the brylcreem. He took the hat off to push the offending hair back into place. Steve preferred the hair loose than the rather severely slicked-back hairstyle the man wore. Besides, with the hat off, the man looked more like an overgrown kid.

Had to be Tony Stark. Especially with that complicated facial hair.

Not even looking up from her magazine, the waitress pointed Stark over to Steve’s booth. Steve immediately wondered how secure this meeting place was after all. The meeting had been set up by Stark’s representatives. If he ended up married to Stark, Steve was going to have to do some serious retraining of Stark’s associates if they were this sloppy.

“Steven Rogers?” Tony said as he slid into the booth. He reached out to shake hands with Steve.

“Tony Stark. Right?”

“Yeah. So I guess you know what our mothers decided.”

“August 10. Your’s mother’s church and her country club.” Steve continued to study Tony. He had learned a lot about the young Stark over the past week. He liked the reports of his brilliance and guts, but not so much the impulsiveness and the bratty behavior.

Tony ordered coffee and the blue-plate special. He shrugged out of his suit coat, letting it settle behind him. Steve immediately noticed the alluring contrast of his olive skin against the bright white of his shirt. None of the reports had mentioned that Tony was a handsome man. Steve never let the attractiveness of his partners and associates distract him from his business. But Tony was neither, not yet. Maybe he could indulge a little in considering Tony for once.

“Look, we don’t have to do this,” Tony stated. “I get why my mother thought it was a good idea. But I’m not interested in getting married anytime soon. This is not going to stop my family’s enemies.”

“I promised my mother I’d go through with it,” Steve countered. Obviously, Tony was here to negotiate some terms. Steve was open to listening.

“That’s a different issue.” Tony glanced out the window and then down at the table. “I’ve heard about you.”

“You can’t believe everything you hear.” Steve blew on his surprisingly good coffee to cool it. He continued to size up Tony. Even though Tony was a college boy and hadn’t been involved in his father’s business, Steve didn’t think he should be dismissed as a lightweight like Bucky and Nat thought. “So what would your mother say if you told her you weren’t planning to go through with her plan?” 

Tony frowned. “She wouldn’t be happy. But she’d get over it.”

“We could get married, see how things go and then go our separate ways once we both get what we want,” Steve proposed. He doubted that Tony’s mother would as easily let it go as Tony implied.

“My situation isn’t so dire that we have to go through the marriage. My mother just thinks that things are that bad. I’ve moved back to New York. I can run my business better here.”

Steve scanned the diner. Something wasn’t right. He looked over at the waitress, who was chatting with the cook. He turned to look at the parking lot, which was empty except for his car and what was likely Tony’s. He looked back at the counter and the cook. There had to be a back door to the kitchen, or the cook was the problem. He reached for his gun nestled in his shoulder holster. Just in case.

“Shouldn’t we have gotten our order by now?” Tony asked. He turned to wave at the waitress.

“Don’t,” Steve hissed. “It’s a setup.”

“What?” Tony asked. “Not here --”

“I don’t know if you’ve been followed or someone betrayed you, but we’re going now.” Jamming his hat on his head, Steve slid his gun out of the holster. He stood up. He’d prefer to get out of this without getting holes in Sam’s car.

Bewildered, Tony grabbed his hat and suit coat. “Steve --”

Steve walked steadily towards the door. The waitress rushed over. “Look -- your order will be out soon.”

“I don’t think so,” he replied coolly. “Get out of the way.”

Tony straggled up behind him as Steve lifted the gun. “Wait, it’s just a diner.”

As he suspected, the cook was the gunman. The cook lifted his own gun, aiming straight for Tony. His first shot went wild over Tony’s head. He didn’t have a chance for a second shot as Steve shot him in the heart. 

“What’s going on here?” Tony asked.

Steve glared at the waitress. “I don’t know nothing,” she babbled. “He told me he was the substitute. How would I know he wasn’t? All he told me was to keep you waiting as long as I could. I thought he didn’t know what he was doing.”

“Come on,” Steve said as he grabbed a stunned Tony’s arm. “We have to go. Now.”

In the parking lot, Steve shoved Tony in his car. “You have to go now. That bullet was meant for you.”

“Why? It’s not like you don’t have enemies.”

“I was sitting there for a half-hour before you came. The assassin could have picked me off as soon as I arrived. He had plenty of time.”

Tony gripped the steering so tightly his knuckles turned white. Steve could almost smell the fear rolling off him. Several things about Tony clicked into place. “You’ve never had someone try to kill you?” Steve asked gently. 

“No.”

Despite barely knowing Tony, Steve felt for the kid, who reminded him of the kids he had commanded back in the war. Even if the kid was only a few years younger than himself. “I’m thinking that getting hitched is not a bad idea if it keeps you out of trouble.”

Tony nodded. “August 10 it is.” 

“Get going. I’ll cover you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Tony had counted on his father shutting down the whole arranged marriage affair when he heard about it. But Howard didn’t dispatch any of his lieutenants to Maria to forbid the wedding. Instead he sent a congratulatory telegram to Tony and a lavish floral arrangement to the Rogers. Either Maria had done the sell job of her life … or Howard didn’t care.

He picked at the brocade slipcover on the couch as his mother chatted about ordering flowers for the wedding. She sat in a delicate armchair in her well-appointed living room, full of modern furniture, vases of fresh-cut flowers, sleek draperies, a mahogany sideboard stocked with expensive liquor and walls covered in reproduction art. Maria would have rather died than let anyone know she had sold off her prized art collection to keep the family business going. 

“We’re not going through with this production, Mom. A simple courthouse wedding and we’re done,” he said when asked for his opinion.

Maria sighed as she leafed through her wedding notes. “Tony, we’ve been over this. I know how you feel, but, honestly, this is how these things are done. The church and country club are booked. And if we don’t have a big wedding, people will talk. And not in a good way.”

“Ma’am, Aldrich Killian here to see you,” Jarvis solemnly announced. 

Putting down her notes on the side table, Maria smiled. “Show him in.” She sat back in her arm chair, ankles neatly crossed, and waited for Killian like a queen receiving foreign ambassadors.

He was the last of Howard’s lieutenants to stick by the family. Tony didn’t know Killian all that well since he’d risen to become Howard’s right-hand man while Tony was away at college. But Howard praised him for his help holding on to most of their territory. And, as far as Tony knew, Howard’s opinion could still be relied upon.

Killian strode into the room, fresh from visiting Howard in exile in Florida. “Great to see you,Tony,” Killian said. He shook Tony’s hand vigorously. “You’re looking like a chip off the old block. Maria, it’s always lovely to see you.” 

He kissed Maria on her cheek. Dressed in a suit a touch too large, smelling of too much cologne, his thinning hair slicked back severely, he sat down on the end of the couch closest to Maria. “So what’s this that I hear about Tony getting married?” 

Maria said, “It’s true, Aldrich. We were just discussing wedding plans. It’s very exciting.”

“How’d you get so lucky, Tony?” Killian asked. 

“They met in a nightclub, of all places,” Maria said before Tony could say anything. “And began a secret romance. I was so surprised when Tony told me of his engagement. An August wedding -- I couldn’t be happier.”

Tony froze in place. He looked from his mother, full of smiles and pride, to Killian, who was decidedly reserved. Tony had no qualms in telling his friends that this was an arranged wedding. Killian was as good as family. Howard liked him. They should be honest with him.

“That’s lovely, Maria. I’m sure you’re looking forward to it. Howard’s told me how excited you are.”

“I never thought I’d see Tony get married. Especially to as lovely a man as Steve Rogers.” She beamed at Tony.

“I gather you’ve met him?” asked Killian.

“Soon, soon.”

Killian took a deep breath. “Maria, I know Howard supports this marriage. But I must stress to you how risky this is. Steve Rogers could take everything we have left and toss you and Tony to the wolves. You do know about the Rogers and their organization, right?”

Maria pursed her red lacquered lips and shook her head. “I’m aware of Sarah and Steve Rogers’ reputations and that they are a family on the rise. But you know our enemies, Aldrich -- they are more ruthless than the Rogerses. We are so very lucky that Tony fell for Steve and Steve for Tony.”

Killian threw up his hands and gave Maria an apologetic smile. “Well, I’m just trying to look out for you and Tony. I promised Howard I would.”

“If things go bad, Aldrich, I know I can count on your support.”

“Always. I owe a lot to Howard.”

Tony half-listened to Killian going over the latest news and instructions from Howard with Maria. He turned Killian’s comments over in his mind. Glancing over, he noticed for the first time the fawning smile and the way he reached out to touch Maria’s knee as they talked. He had counted Killian as an ally, but suddenly thought back to Steve’s warnings. 

Yet why should he trust Steve over one of his father’s closest friends? 

In his workshop, at least, he never had to worry whether people were planning to kill him.

~~~~~

Bucky took Steve and Sam for drinks at Steve’s favorite bar. Steve and his crew had a rough day collecting protection money and other debts. Sam nursed a few nasty bruises on his arm and leg. Bucky wriggled his toes to see if any were broken. Steve sipped his beer and watched the crowd with a wary eye.

He liked this place. He knew it like the back of his hand. He could sit in the back and have an unobstructed view of the front door and the kitchen door. The worn wood floors creaked when people walked. Strangers were out of place in the crowd of regulars. He trusted the owner, who knew Steve since he was knee-high. Dugan was still grateful for the radio Steve gave him for Christmas two years ago. He would turn on the baseball game before Steve even asked. 

Steve stretched out his legs. Today’s take was less than expected. He’ll have to fix that.

Bucky drank the last of his beer. Slamming the bottle on the table, he finally asked, “So, Tony. What’s the deal?”

Steve didn’t need to question what Bucky was asking, he knew. “We’re getting married in August. That’s the deal,” Steve stated. 

“Yeah, but -- where’d he come from?” Bucky pushed. He leaned over the table to look Steve in the eye. “You never said a damn word about Tony Stark before you dropped that you’re engaged. No -- wait -- you did say how all the Starks, including Baby Stark, were fecking useless and needed to get the hell out of the way and let other people have a crack at their territory.”

“I don’t recall saying that.”

Bucky shrugged. “You said something close enough. The point is, why tie ourselves to a sinking ship? We don’t need ‘em.”

“Steve, you do see what we’re talking about here, right? Is Tony the right guy for you? Say the word and we’ll get rid of him,” Sam said.

Steve passed his bottle back and forth between his hands. Steve would have given the idea a lot of thought if Sam had said that as soon as the engagement was announced. Steve could have blamed the Starks for backing out. He knew the Starks’ weaknesses, how desperate Maria Stark had to be to even approach his mother, and he wasn’t afraid of their enemies. 

One solid kick to the foundation of the house of cards that the Starks built and they’d collapse into complete ruin. And Steve could walk right in and pick up all the pieces for his own empire.

But he had changed his mind after meeting Tony. Steve had seen a lot and been through a lot, but not Tony. He could see in Tony’s eyes that Tony had no idea that people were out to kill him.

He knocked back the rest of his beer. He always was a sucker for people who needed his protection. Especially if they had large, liquid brown eyes. “Still going through with it, guys. Thanks for the offer. But I made a promise, and I always back my word.”

Bucky sank back in his seat and groaned. Sam gave Bucky a sidelong glance and said, “In that case, we need to settle the real question of the evening. Who do you pick as your best man?”

Steve frowned. “I -- I haven’t given it much thought.”

“I’ll arm wrestle you for it, Buck,” Sam offered. “Before Steve picks Natasha.”

~~~~~

Steve sat in Sharon’s tidy kitchen examining the collection of forged documents in front of him. Although her neighbors thought she was a nurse, Sharon quietly ran a business providing forged documents of all types to those willing to pay as long as they followed her rules. Steve had known her for years. He even knew who she really worked for, the shadowy fixer Nick Fury, who traded in secrets and blackmail. 

A warm breeze came through the kitchen window, ruffling the documents and stirring up memories. Steve had spent enough mornings in this small white kitchen with the sound of percolating coffee bubbling away and the scent of bacon and eggs for it all to feel almost like home. He had mixed up the business and the personal too much with Sharon over the past few years, though, for him to be entirely comfortable here.

Sharon sat across from him in her white robe with her hair messily pinned up. He still thought her morning smiles were beautiful. “What do you think?”

“It’s your best work,” Steve said. “I’ll take the lot.” He shuffled the documents into a stack.

“Great. The usual prices, although, I might give you a discount for a wedding present.”

“You know about that too?” 

Sharon laughed. “You know I do.” Twisting an escaped lock of hair around her finger, she sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. “I confess, though, I only found out after everyone else did. Good job keeping that all secret, assuming this marriage thing isn’t some sort of con or sham.”

“Was Fury angry?”

She didn’t say anything but got up to get the coffee. Steve took out his wallet to pay for the documents. He heard her pour the coffee and stir in the cream and sugar. “Seriously, Steve, I don’t know what’s going on here. Tony Stark, of all people! I didn’t think you even knew he existed.”

“You think I don’t check out the competition?” He turned to look at Sharon, who was still standing with her back to him.

“Then you’re saying that you do consider the Stark family competition? I’ve never heard that.”

“Sharon, why is Rogers’ motorcycle in the driveway?” Maria shouted as she barged into the kitchen. Maria Hill was Sharon’s roommate and business partner. “Why, hello, Steve.”

“I was just leaving, Maria,” Steve said as he got up from the table. Maria stood, scowling, waves of irritation rolling off her.

“We were just talking about Steve’s engagement. Coffee?”

“Oh? Yeah, coffee, please.” Maria arched her eyebrow at Steve. She smiled at Sharon as she took the offered mug. “Congratulations then.”

Steve placed a thick wad of bills on the table for the documents. “Call me when you have more to sell,” he said to Sharon. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

He knew where he wasn’t wanted. Besides, he needed to tie up a few loose ends before dinner on Saturday with his mother and Tony and Maria Stark.

~~~~~

Tony needed money. Lots of it, and quick, and he didn’t want anyone in the Stark circle to know how much he needed. And he especially didn’t want Steve to find out either.

Pepper had warned him that she was getting low on cash for the parts business. The manufacturer suddenly raised prices and a few customers failed to pay on time. Plus, Tony’s recent expansion into smuggling and black market gun sales cost them more than they planned in labor, bribes and protection.

Like any good futurist, Tony had vision and the ambition and talent to back it up. A little money issue wasn’t going to keep him down long.

He was on his way to the office. Unlike his father and his cronies and their backroom dealings in seedy bars and warehouses, Tony ran his counterfeit parts business out of a tidy and modern office suite in a Manhattan skyscraper. Today he was being driven there by his new driver/bodyguard Happy Hogan. A large man, Happy had a boxer’s body and nose to match.  
Pepper and Rhodey had hired him after the incident at the diner because they decided Tony needed the protection of his own guy.

Not that they distrusted Tony’s family. Rhodey promised him that. But he said that Tony needed to look out for himself.

Pepper, in her usual smart business suit, presided regally over the office suite. She laid out their cash-flow problem to Tony with the help of the newly hired bookkeeper. “We need $10,000 by Monday or they won’t deliver the parts.”

“I thought we had that money --?”

“We did,” Pepper assured him. “But our guy in customs upped his prices.”

Tony stroked his chin, trying to think of a solution. He couldn’t get a bank loan in time. And he didn’t have the muscle to shake down his creditors. “I could clean out Hammer’s gambling operation. I hear he’s got a card game going this weekend.”

He was keen to expand into gambling. He had dozens of schemes for counting cards, loading dice and manipulating roulette wheels. Howard had resisted getting into gambling, and Tony had to watch as the other families made a mint in Las Vegas and other places. Hammer was carving out a place for himself with his secretive gambling den empire in New York. 

“You could ask Steve for the money,” Pepper suggested.

“No. I don’t know him at all. And I’m not planning to start off our arrangement by owing him more than I already do.” He planned to pay Steve back as soon as he could for saving his life at the diner. And that was all he was going to share with Steve. “When’s Hammer’s game this weekend?”

“I heard a rumor it’s on Saturday night.” She checked her appointment book. “Isn’t that the night you have dinner with your mother and the Rogerses?”

Tony nodded grimly. “I’ll make it work. It’s not like Hammer’s games start at 6 in the evening. Get me in and I’ll take it from there.”

~~~~~

Steve came down the stairs in time to see his mother carefully putting her hat on. “Kathleen told me that you bought a new hat for tonight,” he said. He bent down to kiss her cheek. “Looks nice.”

Sarah patted his chest. “I can’t go shabby to dinner with Maria Stark. You know how she is.” She looked him over with a critical eye. “At least you’re clean.” She fussed with his shirt collar and tie. “I suppose you’ll do. I won’t be shamed at dinner.”

He grinned. “Which car do you want to take?”

“Oh, I’ve asked Clint to drive us. We could use the protection.”

Steve nodded. He thought back to meeting Tony in the diner. He had sent Sam, one of his best men, out to ask questions in case the attempt on Tony’s life was meant for him instead. Sam found nothing. Steve vowed to get to the bottom of this no matter how much time it took.

Sarah looked again in the hallway mirror and pushed a few stray, gray-blonde hairs into place. “Tomorrow I’m visiting some properties I’m considering buying.”

“Oh?”

“I have to get you a wedding present. Another flower shop in Midtown would be a good move.”

“Midtown?”

“We’re expanding into new territory, Steve, and I don’t trust anything that the Starks could offer. We need our own base.” She patted Steve’s cheek. “Let’s go meet the Starks. I want to get a good look at this Tony.”

~~~~~

Tony waited in the restaurant lobby for Steve and Mrs. Rogers while his mother made the rounds. She and Howard used to frequent this place before Howard’s heart attack. This restaurant was no different than any of the dozens of old-fashioned steakhouses in New York. He dreaded that his mother would invite the Rogerses back to their apartment. Tony could be stuck there for hours, and he couldn’t miss out on that game or he’d be ruined.

Fretting over his situation, he almost missed seeing Steve Rogers and his mother arrive. And Steve was not something to miss at all. Tony had in his mind the man he saw in the diner in the nondescript suit and hat, someone you couldn’t pick out of a crowd. But this version of Steve looked like he walked right off the silver screen into the restaurant to stand in front of Tony.

All Steve was doing was simply leaving his hat at the coat check. Tony stared at him like he was the main attraction in a nightclub act. The nicer than expected gray suit fit Steve like a glove, hinting at the body under the clothes. His short blond hair framed his handsome face and luminous blue eyes. The marriage might be a disaster, but, damn, they were going to have amazing wedding pictures.

Maria presided over dinner, showing all the charm, manners and patience she had learned in finishing school. Antsy during the whole affair, Tony repeatedly checked his watch, knowing he had to call Pepper soon to find out about the game. Steve, for his part, was on edge in the fancy restaurant, scanning the crowd for possible attacks while trying to answer Maria’s questions politely. Blunt and business-like Sarah negotiated a whole series of items with Maria for the pre-nuptial agreements she insisted that they sign before the wedding.

In all honesty, Tony had lived through worse dinners in his short life. The food and drink made up for a lot. And Steve wasn’t a total drip. Tony conceded that Steve had interesting stories and an intriguing interest in art. He almost forgot to check his watch as he listened to Steve and Maria talk about Paris and London. Maria even offered to plan a European honeymoon. Catching Tony’s eye, Steve nixed the idea, alluding to their family’s businesses. Tony was both grateful and relieved.

Business was business. Checking his watch, Tony excused himself from the table. He headed straight to the phone booth in the lobby. “What’s the news, Pepper?”

“The game is on, Tony. You’re expected there by midnight. Rhodey’s getting the entry money together and he’ll leave it at the office. And we set up an alias for you so Hammer won’t know you’re there.”

“Great.” He wedged the phone under his ear to take down the address. “You’re the best, Pepper.”

“This has to work, Tony. We called in too many favors.”

“It always works. Trust me. This is how I got through MIT.”

Hanging up the phone, he turned around in time to bump into Mrs. Rogers. “Excuse me,” he mumbled.

She gave him a disdainful, raking look. “What was all that about?”

“Um, a card game.”

“Hmm. There’s more to it than that, I suspect.”

Tony froze. He wasn’t about to tell Sarah Rogers his plans to beat an underground blackjack joint with an elaborate card-counting scheme. 

“I’ve met plenty of men like you all my life,” Sarah said. “Get this straight, Mr. Stark. I don't know what airy fairy, highfaluting ideas got put in your head at that fancy pants college of yours. But I know that you and my son have ginned up some kind of plan about this marriage."

Tony opened his mouth to protest, but Sarah fixed a steely eye on him, shutting him up.

"Whatever you do, don't screw over my son. He's a good man. Yes, I know he’s an up-and-coming mob boss. But he is still a good man who deserves someone to care and look after him. I don't know if you are that someone -- you’ve got a lot to prove. Like whether you are a good man yourself, and whether you got more of Howard or Maria in you. For your sake, I hope you’ve got the best parts of both.

"But if you think for one minute you are going take my Steven for everything he’s got and then some, you’ll have me to reckon with. In this life or beyond. Mark my words, boy-o. I will make you pay.”

Tony slunk back to their table, ready to make his excuses for leaving. Sarah dug into her dessert as if she was a society matron out for a night on the town. As Tony mulled excuses in his mind, he glanced up to see Steve studying him with interest. He was shocked at the depth of cunning intelligence and knowing in Steve’s eyes. 

He stumbled through his excuses and kissed his worried mother goodnight, while avoiding Sarah’s judgmental glare. Keen on getting to Hammer’s den, he didn’t notice Steve followed him to the lobby. 

“Is everything all right, Tony? You need any help?” Steve asked Tony as he stood at the door waiting for his driver, Happy.

Tony swore that Steve sounded genuinely concerned. And he was sorely tempted to spill everything to the man. “Fine. I’m fine. Just, you know, family business,” Tony said instead. He didn’t need to get Steve involved in his small problem. A few more hours and he’d be back in the black and on top again.

Steve chewed his lip and considered the carpet for a minute. He took out a small card and shoved it into Tony’s hand. “Whatever happens, call that number -- they’ll know how to find me. I’ll get there as soon as I can.” He turned on his heel and went back into the dining room.

Tony tucked the crumpled card away in his pocket and headed out into the night. His plans were set and he wouldn’t need to call on Steve for help. What Tony needed most of all was to be free of any and all debts to anyone, anywhere. And that included Steve, now and in the future.


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky considered himself a lucky man with few needs. He had a place to lay his head, steady work, good reliable friends and all the food he could eat. He had his vices with poker and late nights in the bars. He loved going out dancing and to Coney Island. But there was Natasha and she was all he ever wanted.

She exploded into his life like a nuclear bomb, all fire, heat and light leaving him ruined and destroyed in her wake. She was as tough as they came, as smart as a whip, and worked like a dog. She ruled her territory like the queen she was. Bucky would die for Steve. But he would sell his body and soul for Natasha.

Tonight he had a rare chance to spend some time with her alone. He was waiting outside the Rogers’ house for Natasha to wrap up her meeting with the old lady. For once, Natasha didn’t say no when he offered her a ride home. She even cracked a smile.

He borrowed a good car, a nice solid black Ford sedan he wouldn’t ordinarily be caught dead in. All because of his mission to convince Natasha that he was more than one of Steve’s lieutenants. Bucky had to sell that he was a good solid bet in a world full of disappointing people. He fiddled with the radio, hoping to find the right kind of music, something sophisticated, something to fit the mood.

Sam rapped on the passenger’s side window. “Barnes! Let me in. We got a job.”

Bucky groaned. “Oh, come on. I have the night off and I’m supposed to drive Natasha home.”

“Steve’s orders. And I had to cancel my plans too.” Sam in his tweed trilby with the red feather slid into the passenger seat. “He wants us to trail that college boy of his.”

“Stark.” Bucky gritted his teeth. He had no idea what Steve was really expecting out of whatever arrangement he’d made with the Stark Family. But anyone could tell that Tony was not worth it. That kid had trouble written all over him and not the fun type of trouble. He was the type of trouble that gets you and your crew killed.

“All Steve knows is that Stark was heading off somewhere he doesn’t want Steve to know about.” Sam drummed his fingers on the dashboard. “It’s got to be about money. The Stark kid is probably having problems getting it.”

“And you can get easy money –“

“At any one of the many games running tonight – blackjack, poker, craps. Stark is a high-class, high-maintenance guy. He’s not going to just any game, and not the ones you play in.”

“Unless he needs a lot of money.”

“Doesn’t narrow the list at all, Barnes.” Sam cracked his knuckles. “What’re you waiting for? We got a long night ahead of us.”

Bucky cast a glance back at the house where the girl of his dreams was strategizing over targets for her next con. Stark was going to regret it if he caused him or Sam the least bit of trouble. He started the car and backed out the driveway.

~~~~~

Back at college, Tony had learned to count cards to earn his drinking money. Reduced to the basics, counting cards was nothing more than a complex math problem. And Tony could do dozens of those before breakfast every day. The trick, of course, was not being obvious about it or getting caught. He’d graduated to the big leagues now, and he wasn’t trying his luck against naïve college students but a more hardened element.

He paid his entry fee, ponied up for more chips, and headed out to earn his $5000. A half hour of work and he’d save his small business. Hammer had rented a warehouse for the night and filled the room with tables and people gambling. Tony noted the exits and the tiny bar in a corner. He skirted past Justin Hammer’s table where motor-mouthed Hammer held court over a bored collection of gamblers. 

Howard had tangled with Hammer before over business deals. Over the past three years Tony had heard his father’s long rants about Hammer’s ridiculous, foolhardy, pointless schemes. And Hammer certainly lived up to his reputation if Tony could go by appearances. He’d never seen a suit that flashy before or a man that frantic for attention.

Happy had given him tips on attracting the right sort of attention. All Tony had to do was flash a lot of money and win just enough at the cheap stakes tables. Hammer’s people were looking for marks like Tony to use as suckers at the high-roller tables. Those were the tables and deals that Tony needed to win. But he’d have to balance losing and winning so that no one could tell how much he was winning. Or worse, card counting. He’d never be able to get into a game again if word got around that he cheated.

To be honest, Tony didn’t have much of a plan other than relying on Happy’s advice. Then again, Tony was a master of improvisation. He’d be fine.

Tony headed to the quieter tables in the back where the visiting chumps had been channeled. No one would know him there. He played a few hands, losing on purpose, lulling the dealers into complacency. Nothing to see here, just an easy mark determined to lose all his money on a Saturday while drinking the pricey alcohol-flavored water. Because Tony knew his liquor and whatever swill was in his glass was not top-drawer bourbon at all.

The dealer announced that Tony won that hand. A woman with long shimmery red hair and a dress emphasizing all her assets sidled up to Tony. “Hey, handsome,” she said, throwing him a flirty smile.

“Hi there,” Tony replied. 

“Looks like you’re a winner tonight,” she said. “I could show you a better time.” She ran her fingers up Tony’s arm. 

Smooth, professional, teasing and enticing. Tony hoped she was luring him over to the high-roller tables, not selling other services. He didn’t have the time or the money to spare. “And that would be –”

“Big money,” the woman laughed. She linked her arm in his arm. “Over here, big spender. This is where the real action is.”

Right. Tony smiled back. “Could I get more of whatever this is?” He waved his glass at her.

“I’ll take care of it.” She brought him over to a table and handed him over to a dealer. 

Tony glad-handed the other gamblers and slid a couple of chips over to the dealer, who palmed the tip and went back to dealing. The redhead kept feeding drinks to Tony and Tony kept winning. Small amounts with the occasional loss, but Tony was gaining bit by bit. 

The slinky redhead hovered at his elbow, a little bit of glamor in Hammer’s warehouse dive wanna-be casino. Laughing and joking, he bought drinks for the other gamblers at his table, cheered and commiserated with their wins and losses. Even though the plan was to fly under the radar and take Hammer for as much as he could get, Tony got louder, showier, and careless with the cards.

He could win a Nobel Prize in counting card theory, but he was terrible at reading the room. He didn’t even notice the dark-suited men who were now watching the table and talking in low tones. He won a hand and then one of the dark-suited men slammed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re coming with us.”

“Wait, what did I do?” Tony asked as evenly as he could. The other man scooped up his chips.

“What didn’t you do, that’s the real question,” the man said.

They hauled him over to Hammer, interrupting him mid-sentence. Hammer ran a hand over his face. “What’s the deal with this guy?” 

“Cheating at cards.”

“Take care of him.” He waved his thugs off dismissively.

Tony was angrier that a two-bit, low-level crime lord like Hammer didn’t even recognize him than he was at being tossed out on his ear. “Do you know who I am? I’m Tony Stark --”

Hammer shot Tony a contemptuous look. “Like I care. Your father’s name isn’t good enough to protect you here, Stark. And you sure don’t have the money to buy yourself out of this. I said, take care of him.”

The men roughly hustled Tony out the back. It suddenly dawned on Tony that he had lost all the money Pepper and Rhodey had barely been able to scrape up. Not only that, things could go badly for him here in the trash-filled alley behind the warehouse. Very badly. 

One thug pushed him hard against the brick wall of the building and wedged an arm under his chin. “Hammer don’t like people cheating him.”

Tony struggled to think of a way to talk himself out of this. He couldn’t bribe the guy to let him go. Oh, this was going to hurt.

“Hey, you! Let ‘em go,” a man shouted from the street.

“None of your business, buddy,” Thug Two said. 

“It’s our business if it involves Tony Stark,” said a different guy.

“Says who?”

“Says me,” the other guy answered as he threw a punch at the goon’s chin.

The other guy jumped the man holding Tony against the wall. “Get in the car,” he shouted at Tony. As the new arrivals fought Hammer’s thugs, Tony backed down the alley to the sedan parked at the curb. He was assuming that it was the car his rescuer told him about.

He hesitated at the curb. He was in a bad spot, but he knew better than to get into a strange car. Staying in the alley or getting in the car wouldn’t result in Tony ending the day in his own bed. Or alive. He turned to walk down the street and away from the whole rotten scene.

“Hey, I said get in the car,” the brown-haired man said as he exited the alley. His friend in a tweed trilby pushed Tony into the back seat. “If it wasn’t for Steve, we’d leave you here, you know.”

“Give Stark a break, he’s had a hard time of it,” the other guy replied as he got into the front passenger seat. He looked back at Tony. “I’m Sam, by the way. And that’s Bucky.”

“You’re Steve’s guys.”

“Yep – he sent us to look after you,” Sam said.

“After going to fifteen different nightclubs and casinos and other warehouse gambling dens, we find you in this alley by accident,” Bucky complained. He drove away from the curb.

“Do you like getting in trouble?” Sam asked.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Where are you taking me?”

“To Steve,” Bucky said.

~~~~~

Bucky parked the car in front of a three-story brick building in a neighborhood full of similar looking buildings. There were two stores on the street level with apartments above. Tony guessed they were somewhere in Brooklyn. Maybe not far from the Rogers compound. 

“Up and out,” Sam said as he opened the back door.

“Where are we?” Tony still did not trust him.

“Our apartment.”

Now rumpled and cranky, Tony followed Sam and Bucky upstairs. “Where’s Steve then?”

“He’ll be coming. If he isn’t here yet.”

 

He decided he could tolerate Sam who was pleasant and businesslike. But the jury was still out on Bucky, who kept giving Tony the stinkeye.

“What’s with him?” Tony asked Sam.

Sam chuckled. “You ruined his night. I don’t think he’s going to give you a break.”

The apartment was a neat and tidy small three-bedroom apartment full of solid, unexciting furniture in dull colors, bookcases half-full of books, and a coffee table covered with magazines and racing forms. Tony noticed a couple of nicely done landscapes hanging on the wall and an odd sort of clock on a rickety table near a window. He picked up the clock to inspect it.

“It’s Sam’s,” explained Steve as he entered the living room. “He races pigeons and that’s a pigeon racing clock.”

“Please don’t take it apart,” Sam added. 

Tony put the clock down but gave it the side-eye. His engineer’s mind told him that Sam could do better in the clock department. “Right.”

Steve had changed out of his dinner suit into a pair of tan slacks, white shirt, and a brown leather jacket. Tony was hard pressed to choose which look he liked better. Steve was a stunner either way. Steve ran a hand through his hair, freeing the locks from the brylcreem. Mussed hair did wonders for Steve.

Tony should not be finding Steve at all attractive. He should be keeping Steve at arms’ length.

“Where did you find him?” Steve asked Bucky and Sam.

“In a back alley getting beaten up by Hammer’s goons for cheating at cards,” Bucky said. He unholstered his gun and put it on the couch. Then he unbuckled the knife sheath on his leg and put that on the table. Then he sat down and stretched out his legs.

Tony wondered if Bucky had any more weapons stashed away. And he saw that Bucky had an artificial left arm. 

“Lost it in the war, if that’s what you’re wondering about.”

“Cheating at cards? Really?” Steve asked. He looked at Sam in surprise.

“In my defense, I know what I’m doing. Card counting is an ancient art,” Tony said. 

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing? You did get caught,” Sam pointed out.

Tony snapped, “Oh, and are you the morals police, considering you work for a mob boss?”

“Tony, we’re not judging anything,” Steve said.

“Yeah, we are -- we’re judging Stark’s cheating abilities,” Bucky said. “I thought he’d be good at it. Plus he’s shit in a fistfight.”

“I got carried away, that’s all,” Tony mumbled. 

“Lay off Tony.” Steve told Bucky. He clapped Tony on the shoulder. “Come with me.”

Tony followed Steve into the smallest bedroom. The room was sparsely furnished with a twin bed and a table and chair. More framed landscapes on the wall. Shutting the door behind them, Steve sat down on the chair and waved at Tony to sit on the bed. Steve’s jacket slid to the side, revealing Steve’s shoulder holster and gun. 

“What’s going on, Tony? And no lies here. I’ve got guys who could track down the truth even in Antarctica if I asked.” Steve leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. 

“I needed money. That’s all. I underestimated Hammer’s security.” Tony shrugged. He wasn’t getting a good read on Steve at all. 

“Is this about your parts business?” 

“You know about that?”

“When Ma told me about our arrangement, I looked into your businesses to see what I was getting into. So I know everything.”

Damn. He’ll have to get much much better at hiding his secrets. “Whatever.”

Steve stared him right in the eye. “How much money do you need, Tony? I’ve been hearing rumors all day about your people – not your father’s people – raising money.”

Tony hung his head. “I needed $5000. But Hammer took everything.”

Steve got up and opened the closet, revealing a large safe. Unlocking the safe, he took out bundles of banded bills and set them on the table. He counted out the bundles and tossed a pile of bills on the bed. “Here’s $10,000.”

Tony stared at the money on the bed like it was a rattlesnake about to strike him. “You don’t own me,” he said. 

“No, I don’t. But we are allies whether you like it or not. I don’t have a lot of faith that you’ll manage to live through the week on your own.”

“I have Happy.”

“Happy Hogan’s a good bodyguard, but he can’t seem to keep you out of trouble. The people who are after you don’t care who lives or dies when they come for you.”

“I can get the money,” Tony insisted.

Steve sighed. He put his hand on his hip. “No. Take this.”

“I’ll pay you back.” Tony felt his face burn with humiliation in front of the man he was marrying in a few weeks.

“Consider it a wedding gift. Do you want to stay here tonight?” 

Tony admittedly was exhausted. He was tempted, but then he’d have to face Mr. Armed-To-The-Teeth and the Pigeon Guy in the morning. “Is this your room?”

“I stay here sometimes. When I have business.”

“I want to go home,” Tony said. “It’s been a long day.”

“Okay.” Steve knocked on the wall.

Sam opened the door. “Steve?”

“Sam, take Tony back to his apartment. Make sure he gets there in one piece.”

“Can I have something to carry this in?” Tony asked as they left the room, his arms full of Steve’s money.

~~~~~

Back home, Tony snuck in quietly so that he wouldn’t wake his mother. She left a lamp on so Tony wouldn’t be in the dark when he returned. He set the box of money on the coffee table and poured himself a drink from the sideboard. Drink in hand, he stared out at the city lights. It would be dawn soon and he was bone tired. And angry and frustrated.

He stuck his hand in his pocket and found Steve’s crumbled business card in his pocket as he undressed. Actually, it wasn’t a business card. Steve had neatly printed a phone number on the card with his initials. Completely useless if he had remembered the card when he was in the dark alley with Hammer’s thugs. No pay phones there.

He didn’t need Steve. Or his kindness. Or his money. He’d do just fine without him. Although he had to admit that Steve’s protection was infinitely valuable right now. Tony couldn’t do anything if he was dead.

So much to do. He swirled the bourbon in his glass. Now he had to pay Steve back to keep his self-respect. And he needed to devise a way to take down Justin Hammer. And then find the people who wanted him dead. And revive the Stark family business and put the Stark name back where it belonged.

First, though, he had to marry Steve and get that over with.


End file.
